


The Goal is Pancakes

by phenomenology



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff without Plot, I just needed them to be gay, M/M, i don't have an excuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-23 19:05:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7476228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phenomenology/pseuds/phenomenology
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's really no reason for this...it just happened. I guess it's somewhere around post season 5?? I just needed them to be happy god damn it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Goal is Pancakes

**Author's Note:**

> It's be like three decades but here's some stupid fluff with mild angst for a fandom I haven't participated in for ages. Enjoy?

The door to Derek’s loft slid open before coming to an abrupt halt as it collided loudly against the wall it was mounted on. Without so much as a flinch, Derek, far too used to the inclined hearing that he had been born with, looks up from the bag he had been unpacking on the counter. Scott had often complained, after first being bitten, about the increase in his senses. Derek, not really knowing how to sympathize, had told him to suck it up. Admittedly though, having a scrawny, angry teenager bursting through his door at nearly two in the morning was rather loud.

Even if he had heard Stiles, coming up the stairs almost a full minute before his spectacular entrance. 

“What the hell?” Stiles shouts, as he almost misses the step down into the loft. He storms toward the makeshift kitchen Derek had put together months ago. Anger radiates off of the teen with every gesture, every movement, he makes. Derek could smell it on him, too; it almost smothered the familiar scent that was just _Stiles_.

And he hated that. Now more than ever Derek wanted it to be just Stiles; not angry Stiles.

“Are you going to answer me?” Stiles continues to shout, his voice only rising in volume as he gets closer to the werewolf in question. “Or are you just going to stand there staring at me like a fucking rock? Is that what I’m doing right now? Talking to an emotionless brick?” Stiles is now in Derek’s face, and his dark brown eyes are alight with rage. 

But Derek knows better, and he can see past the rage there. Beneath that initial anger is desperation, pain, and sadness so profound that Derek feels like a stake is being driven into his chest.

“You just up and left with out a god damn word and expected everything to be fine and dandy, didn’t you?” Stiles had backed out of Derek’s space and was now pacing angrily. Back and forth, Stiles is pushing his hands forcefully through his already mussed hair. As he tiredly leans his weight back against the counter behind him, Derek braces his position with his hands gripping the edges of the counter. He knows that he deserves this rant, and is willing to let Stiles get everything out. It’s no doubt been pent up since Derek left Beacon Hills almost three months ago.

Absently, Derek wonders how much Adderall is fueling Stiles at the moment, because he can still smell the faint waft of the chemical clinging to the teen.

“I mean what did you expect me to do?” Stiles’ rant breaks through Derek’s train of thought. “Just accept the fact that you decided to wander off doing whatever wolfy thing it is you do when you disappear? For fuck’s _sake_ , Derek! The last time you vanished like this we found you in some cave in Mexico…several years younger than you should have been I might add!

“Christ would it kill you to pull out your stupid werewolf notepad and leave a message? Like ‘hey sorry to vanish on you! Just went to the store for some milk!’ or ‘sorry I’ll be gone for three friggin’ months on some secret mission!’ Do you even know what the pack went through while you were gone? Did you stop to think how this would effect us?”

Stiles stopped suddenly, facing Derek as his chest heaved up and down. His breathing was labored from rushing up the stairs to the loft and then pacing and ranting to Derek. Even at the distance that separated them, Derek could tell that Stiles’ breath was heated from the exertion and the emotions roiling within him. There was a telltale gloss in Stiles’ eyes that told Derek the threat of tears was nigh.

The last thing he wanted to do was to hurt Stiles this much. But he knew that it was already to late for that, and wanting to say something, Derek tried to think of the least lame excuse he could. The truth wasn’t really something he wanted to spring on Stiles at this exact moment…or any of the pack members really.

Derek had a brief thought as to how exactly Stiles knew he was back, considering he had only been in town all of an hour. And that entire hour had been spent inside his loft reorganizing things.

“Did you…” Stiles started to continue; breaking off any chain of thought Derek had been about to wander down. “Did you even stop to think how you leaving would effect _me_?” 

Sucking in a sharp breath, Derek zeroed in entirely on Stiles as he pushed off the counter behind him. There was no longer any anger hovering around the teen, only a heartbreaking sadness that pulled at something painful in Derek’s chest.

“Stiles, I-” he started, reaching out to the deflated human standing in front of him. Derek couldn’t help but think about how much smaller Stiles looked after not seeing him for a few months. And that was the whole problem wasn’t it? _Months._

“No!” Stiles snapped, the anger suddenly flooding back into the teen. “I thought I _meant_ something to you, Derek! Why didn’t you think I deserved some sort of explanation before you disappeared on me? Again!”

Unable to handle the pain and tension that was building between them any longer, Derek surged forward and wrapped himself around Stiles’ scrawny frame. He held on with all the longing that he had tried to suppress for Stiles over those three months he had been gone. And while Stiles was indeed thinner than he remembered, Derek relished breathing in the comforting, familiar scent that was _Stiles_. He smelled like the forest and the boy’s locker room, mixed with warmth that Derek had no words to describe. If he ever tried to explain it to someone, Derek was sure it would earn him an odd look; but _god_ had he missed Stiles. 

The teen in question had gone rigid when Derek embraced him, but relaxed a little after a moment. Derek could feel Stiles slowly, gingerly wrapping his arms around Derek’s torso. It was like Stiles was afraid if he moved too quickly, that Derek would disappear again. It was only when Stiles’ nose buried into the crook of Derek’s neck that the teen allowed all the tension to leave his body. Clinging to Stiles as the teen’s muscles went limp, Derek moved one hand up to bury it in Stiles’ messy locks. The brown tangle of Stiles’ hair curled softly under Derek’s large hand, giving him a comfort he had ached for.

It was also a comfort he knew he didn’t deserve, even as he left his hand combing gently through Stiles’ messy mop.

“I’m so sorry,” Derek, whispered in a voice thick with emotion, his breath dancing over the skin of Stiles’ neck. A little shiver worked it way down Stiles’ spine as Derek continued. “You have every right to be upset with me, to hate me. I don’t blame you for it. I had to leave, but I’m back now and I’m not planning on going anywhere anytime soon.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Stiles whispered into Derek’s shoulder, his voice soft and hurt and childlike. It pushed that stake of guilt even deeper into his chest. “I was worried sick about you.”

“I knew that you and the rest of the pack would try to come with me…” Derek began to explain.

“Of course we would have, you stupid sourwolf,” Stiles mumbled as his grip around Derek tightened. There was a prick of annoyance in Stiles’ scent but it was smothered quickly by fondness. “We’re a _pack._ That’s what we do.”

“I know,” Derek, said, his voice hiding his own note of affection. “And I’m so grateful to have you all. But I had to do this alone.”

“Do what?” Stiles pressed, not satisfied with the vague answers he was receiving from Derek. Maybe it was because he was the sheriff’s son, or maybe it was because he was just curious by nature, but Derek knew that Stiles would not rest until he had his answers. Derek, however, couldn’t handle that tonight. He didn’t want to retell and relive the hell he had experienced alone over the past months.

Shaking his head gently against Stiles’ neck, Derek let out a weary sigh. “Not tonight, Stiles. I just got back, and I’m exhausted. But I promise, in the morning you’ll get your answers.”

There was a soft grumble from the teen against Derek’s collarbone, Stiles’ dissatisfaction with not being given an answer at the moment. But he conceded and pressed silently against Derek’s chest even more.

“Fine,” Stiles grumbled his auditory consent to the deal. “On one condition,” came the inevitable counter.

“What’s that?” Derek rumbled softly.

“You let me sleep over. I’m not letting you out of my sight for the next week, I hope you know that.” As Stiles’ lips moved, the formation of his words often brushed the plump skin of the teen’s lips against Derek’s neck, causing him to shiver.

Needless to say, Derek had never been happier to hear that he would have a stalker for a while. He had missed Stiles more than anything and having his partner clinging to him for a while was nothing Derek felt the need to complain about.

“Deal,” Derek breathed loftily, pressing his lips against Stiles’ neck, eliciting a small noise of pleasure from the teen.

They stood like that for a few moments more, Derek hunched slightly as his broad frame wrapped protectively around Stiles. The scrawnier teen was pressed impossibly close to his werewolf, fingers curling into the soft fabric of Derek’s shirt. Both of them had their faces buried into the crook of the other’s neck. They just stood there and breathed each other in.

“Am I going to make this awkward when I say that my feet are falling asleep?” Stiles mumbled into Derek’s collarbone.

Derek laughed, actually laughed, for the first time in a long time. The chuckle started as a deep rumble in his chest before he let it out into Stiles’ neck. He could sense Stiles’ surprise at the sound, but also the pleasure at hearing Derek’s laugh.

“Not at all,” Derek finally answered, a small grin pulling at his lips. “My knees are about to buckle on me. I just want to go to bed.”

Derek could feel it when Stiles grinned against his shoulder, letting Derek know he approved of the idea of bed. A few minutes later, Stiles had dragged a sleepy, staggering Derek up to the second floor of the loft and put them both to bed. There was a moment when Derek wondered if they were going to do something about this charged situation, but the idea left his head the moment his head hit the pillow.

For now, curling his arms around Stiles and tangling their legs together would do just fine. And Stiles seemed perfectly content as he snuggled even closer into Derek’s body heat.

“I missed you,” Stiles whispered as his nose brushed against Derek’s chest. “More than you know.”

“Trust me,” Derek rumbled sleepily. “I know. I felt it too.”

“Derek?” Stiles whispered.

“What is it?” Came Derek’s just a quiet reply.

A pause from Stiles, before, “I love you.”

Derek’s heartbeat faltered for a moment. He hadn’t heard Stiles say that before, and sure he had _felt_ it rolling off of Stiles for almost a year before he left. But hearing it was entirely different. 

“I love you, too,” Derek murmured into Stiles’ hair where his nose was currently buried. They fell asleep curled up in each other’s arms, leaving Derek feeling safe for the first time in months.

* * *

Derek had woken up first, of course. Stiles tended to be a fairly heavy sleeper if he took too much medication before he went to bed. Derek had gently disentangled himself from Stiles’ warm embrace, unable to resist the urge to use the bathroom. That, and he really needed a cup of caffeine.

With mussed hair and yawning over the rim of his steaming mug of caf, Derek shifted through the bag he hadn’t finished unpacking earlier due to Stiles’ visit. There was nothing left but dirty clothes in it so he decided that it could wait. As Derek moved to find something to snack on, he had a fleeting thought about how nice it had been to sleep in something comfortable.

Most of the time he had been gone, Derek had been lucky to snag three hours of sleep, meaning he usually didn’t bother with changing out of his jeans. It had also been heavenly to sleep in his own bed, wrapped contentedly around someone he loved.

Leaning into his basically empty fridge, Derek jumped when a loud clatter sounded from his room above. Quickly leaving his mug on the counter as he slammed his fridge shut, Derek’s mind raced with all the worst-case scenarios. His primary fear was that Stiles was still upstairs, unarmed and unprepared. Derek was rushing for the stairs when Stiles’ panicked voice cried out from upstairs.

“Derek?” Stiles shouted, voice breaking as he called out. The fear thick in Stiles’ tone was enough to drive Derek up the stairs with a speed he hadn’t thought he was capable of after just waking up. Bursting into his room, Derek found Stiles hopelessly tangled in the bed sheets, sprawled across the floor as he struggled.

“Stiles?” Derek asked, worry thick in his voice as he rushed to his boyfriend’s side. Kneeling to help Stiles untangle himself, Derek scanned the room, looking for any sign of danger. “What happened? Are you alright?”

“Y-You were gone w-when I woke up,” Stiles sobbed, his hand reaching out and clutching Derek’s arm. “I-I thought maybe I had…maybe I had d-dreamt you.”

Eyes widening with shock and guilt, Derek sat down on the floor and pulled Stiles into his lap, holding the teen close. Stiles’ arms wrapped almost instinctively around Derek’s shoulders as he sobbed. Derek rubbed one hand up and down Stiles’ back, holding him against his chest with his other hand. It took Stiles a couple minutes to catch his breath and calm down again, and Derek held him the whole time, the motion of his hand not stopping.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” Derek murmured. “I was just downstairs getting some coffee. I made you a promise, Stiles. I’m not going anywhere.”

Stiles sniffled quietly as he nodded minutely into Derek’s shoulder. The teen’s stomach rumbled quietly, drawing a chuckle from Derek’s lips.

“Me too,” he sighed. “But there’s nothing in my fridge. How about we go get pancakes or something?”

“Denny’s?” Stiles mumbled hopefully. Derek was relieved that he sounded calmer now.

“Whatever you want,” Derek agreed, squeezing Stiles gently as he shifted to start standing up. “But you do have to get dressed to go out.”

“Ugh,” Stiles grumbled, moving to stand up with Derek. Now that he wasn’t panicked, Derek took in the amazing mess that was his boyfriend’s bed head and couldn’t help the smirk that pulled at his lips.

“And probably brush your hair, too,” Derek affectionately ruffled the rat’s nest as Stiles ducked under his hand.

“You ask for so much,” Stiles grumbled jovially as he swatted Derek’s hand away. He started toward Derek’s bathroom, stretching as he did. “I’ll be down in ten,” he said over his shoulder before ducking into the smaller room.

“Don’t shower,” Derek called after him. “I want to save that for later.”

There was a choking noise from the other side of the closed door, followed by the cacophonous sound of the soap and toothpaste on the counter falling over. Derek laughed as he tugged on a fresh pair of jeans and a t-shirt.

“I’ll be downstairs!” Derek chuckled before heading back to his mug of coffee, a smug look on his face. He knew exactly how to motivate Stiles, even after a few months apart. It worried him, though, the extent to which his absence had affected Stiles. Knowing they would have to sit down and talk about it at some point, Derek frowned slightly. He wanted to give Stiles some time to get used to being around him again before Derek brought it up. It would probably be a tense conversation.

Sipping at his coffee, Derek waited for Stiles to reappear so they could go and get those pancakes. When Stiles finally did trot down the steps, it was Derek’s turn to choke. His coffee almost went up his nose as he all but spit his mouthful of coffee back into the mug.

Smirking, Stiles pulled Derek’s leather jacket a little higher onto his too narrow shoulders. The scrawny teen was all but swimming in the excess of fabric that was Derek’s coat. And he looked positively enticing to Derek with his still mussed hair and worn jeans.

“You approve, I take it?” Stiles chuckled, practically skipping over to Derek and pecking the stunned werewolf’s cheek. 

Blinking, Derek set his coffee aside and pulled Stiles closer by his waist. “Very much,” he replied, leaning in to leave a lingering kiss on Stiles’ soft lips.

When they broke apart, Stiles let out a warm breath over Derek’s mouth and smirked. “Let’s hurry with those pancakes.” At Derek’s confused look, Stiles leaned a little closer and nipped at Derek’s lower lip before whispering, “I’m eager to come back here and take that shower you promised me.”


End file.
